


To Explore Creepy New Planets

by Goneahead



Series: Beam Me Up, Danno! [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), NCIS: Los Angeles, Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Hawaii Five-Oh in Space!, Hetty is 100 percent done with Vulcans and their illogical bullshit, Idiots in Love, Loopy Steve, M/M, bed sharing like woah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goneahead/pseuds/Goneahead
Summary: Steve McGarrett is still Captain of the Enterprise, First Officer Danny Williams still hates his school's guidance counselor, and CMO Max Bergman should probably hand out frequent visitor punch cards for Sickbay.Written forOne Million WordsOctober Bingo Challenge and H50 Writing Club Prompt: ‘Loopy Steve’.Also, Vice Admiral Hetty Lange makes a guest appearance in Chapter 3.
Series: Beam Me Up, Danno! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990474
Comments: 46
Kudos: 69
Collections: 1 Million Words' BINGO, H50 Writers Club Discord Challenges, Loopy Steve Challenge





	1. S.O.D. Off

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If you haven't read the first story, Danny’s nickname is Dah’noh in this ‘verse. For REASONS.
> 
> Also, unbetaed.

~~+~~  
**Wilkes II (Horror Movie + Loopy Steve)**

“So, let me get this straight,” First Officer Danny Williams would’ve gestured as he spoke, but five officers were a lot of people to squeeze into one turbolift. “we are beaming down to a planet that is, quite literally, a graveyard. Like, the entire planet.”

“Yes!” Second Science Officer Jeff Morrison was practically bouncing. “This makes the third S.O.D. planet--”

“S.O.D.?” Captain Steve McGarrett looked down at Jeff, questionly.

“Silicon Osteodermians.” Jeff rattled off the name Starfleet had slapped on the extinct alien race. “This is the third planet we’ve discovered--and they’re all planets intentionally designed to be cemeteries. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“No, that’s the plot to a bad horror movie.” Danny shot back. “Everyone who thinks that going to a dead planet, full of dead aliens, is a really bad idea? Raise your hand.”

Kono’s hand shot up. Danny would’ve raised his, too--but he was squished between Kono and Jenna, and he couldn’t figure out a way to do it that wouldn’t constitute ‘sexual harassment by a commanding officer’.

“There are no dead aliens. All the graves excavated so far contain cremation ashes and a handful of silicon body plates.” First Officer Jenna Kaye was even more excited than Jeff. “We don’t even know what the S.O.D.s looked like--or how they terraformed these planets. It's so _interesting._ ”

The turbolift doors opened and they spilled into the teleporter room. Cadet Huol and the newest crew member, Cadet Bi’an were glumly loading sample containers onto the transporter pad--as if the last thing they wanted to do was go traipsing through some alien graveyard. 

“Let me just beam these containers down,” Quartermaster Xio nodded to them, “then I’ll recalibrate the pad.”

Cadet Huol’s symbiote, a green worm-like thing, poked out from the neck of his shirt, and gave an unhappy chitter.

Danny folded his arms over his chest. “Exactly.”

A few minutes later, Danny and the others materialized in the middle of a soggy, mossy plain, under a sulking grey sky. This was a cemetery for giants. Over twenty cairns of reddish-white stone, at least two-stories high, formed an enormous circle around him. More circles, made up of more cairns, stretched as far as the eye could see. In some places, the circles intersected, and each intersection was marked by even larger cairns, soaring jagged teeth of black stone.

Great. The silicon aliens had laid out their graveyard in some creepy venn diagram.

Danny sighed. “Come on, Kono. Let’s go sample moss, before we get--”

“Stuck hauling _more_ rocks?” Kono gave him a grin, as she picked up a sample container. “Lead the way.”

For the next hour, they squelched across the moss. The stuff was far thicker and spongier than it looked, and it smelled, oddly, like black tea. They found a few clumps of ferns, and one weird purplish vine, but otherwise, just moss.

“I now officially hate moss,” Danny straightened, “In fact--”

In the distance, Jeff yelped and began flailing his arms. 

Kono spun around, “Jeff!”

Danny grabbed her arm before she could run to Jeff’s aid, watching in horror as a greenish-black swirling cloud poured from the pile of rock that Jeff had been sampling. The cloud drifted over Jeff and the cadets, then began to sink, sweeping over both Jenna and Steve, before slowly disappearing into the ground.

Danny opened the sample container, fingers scrambling for the emergency rebreathers stored under the lid. He handed one to Kono, then pulled the other rebreather on, tapping the switch for the bio-filter. He looked back over at the landing party--and stared.

Cadet Bi’an was curled into a tight fetal position, howling in fear. Jeff had sunk to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Jenna was staggering around like a drunk, screaming insults as she hurled rocks and bits of moss. Cadel Huol was standing in one spot, shaking. 

And Steve was sitting on a rock, grinning happily as if all of this was perfectly normal.

“Extreme emotion?” Kono yelled through the rebreather.

Danny shrugged as he flipped open his communicator. “We need a medical team down here, full bio-gear, now!”

They stood there helplessly watching for what seemed an eternity. Jeff was rocking back and forth, clutching his tricorder and bawling. Jenna was still tossing moss, and yelling and swearing at nothing. Cadet Bi’an had gone silent, Cadet Huol continued to shake like a leaf--

And Steve was now laughing like a maniac.

In reality, it must’ve only taken a few minutes for Chief Medical Officer Max Bergman to beam down, along with two nurses and two interns. They were all wearing lime green medical bio-suits, with bio-filter face shields.

Nurse Mlln immediately handed bio-suits to Danny and Kono. Danny clambered into one, while filling Max in as best as he could, through the rebreather.

The doctor turned and looked at the rest of the landing party, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Please confirm. You said a greenish-black cloud? A cloud perhaps similar to pollen clouds from trees and other arboreal plants?”

Kono and Danny nodded.

Max began muttering to himself, but thankfully, the speaker on his face shield was on. “Possibly a N.I.L. fungus--m’zyll? But it's not typically found in such a moist environment--” 

He began giving orders to the medical team, then suddenly stopped, trotted back to them. “I’m sorry, First Officer Williams. I believe it to be m’zyll, which means fungal spores, which means you should most definitely wear the bio-suits. Not particularly dangerous, but a powerful neuromodulator. Also, currently untreatable. We will have to let the effect of the spores run its course.”

Because, of _course_ the creepy alien cemetery would have creepy alien mushrooms.

Danny took a deep breath, stripped the rebreather off, and pulled the face shield down. He heard the unmistakable crinkling as the suit self-sealed. He took a breath and made a face--bio-suits always had a dank, almost fishy smell. He thumbed on his speaker. “What’re we talking about here, Kermit? Full landing party decontamination?”

“Yes. But--we’re currently only equipped to handle three patients at a time. I will return as soon as I am able--the decontamination process takes no more than half of an hour cycle.” Max opened his communicator, stopped again. “First Officer Williams, Communications Officer Kalakaua? Physical exercise should help offset the emotional effects of the m’zyll. If you could try to get the Captain and Second Science Officer Jeff to exercise in the meantime, that would be most helpful.”

He gave Xio orders over the communicator, then trotted back to the medical team. The team beamed up a moment later, with Jenna and both of the Cadets.

“So,” Kono eyed Steve, who was now sprawled out in the moss, “I’ll take Jeff, and you can handle the boss. Good?”

She hurried off before Danny could reply. Danny did his best to block out Jeff’s continued sobs, and walked over to Steve.

Who was still sprawled on his back. He stopped laughing, and gave Danny a wide, sloppy smile. “Hi, Danny. You’re green!”

“Yes, it's a bio-suit. Come on, get up.” Danny offered him a hand, “Time to stop making moss angels, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he went into a fit of giggles. 

Kono’s head whipped around and Danny gave her a small, half shrug. He tried again, “Up. Now.” 

“Up!” Steve ignored his hand, and got to his feet with all the dexterity of somebody leaving a bar at closing time. 

“Easy there, buddy.” Danny put a hand on Steve’s chest--which was a mistake.

“Danny!” Steve draped himself over Danny, in a manner that was much too personal and much too gropy to be called a hug. “Hi!”

“Ow, stop. No, stop, Steve, stop.” He tried to fend off Steve’s hands, which were now _patting_ him.

“Look, see that rock?’ Danny went for a distraction. He pointed at a nearby cairn, which hopefully didn’t have any of the mz-fungus-thingies. “We’re going to walk to that rock, all right?”

“Uh huh.” Steve beamed down at him. “You’re still green, Dan’noh-danny. Am I drunk?” He considered this, gave a happy nod. “Yup, I’m most def--”

“Woah.” Danny managed, barely, to grab Steve before he fell, head first, into the moss. “How about we focus on walking for now. See that rock? Let’s just walk--no, Steve, stop! Ow, stop hugging me!”

“Hi, Danny-dan’noh!” Steve continued to beam at him, while simultaneously hugging and leaning at the same time. “Are we walking? You said we were walking.”

“No, we’re sitting.” Danny gave up, because Steve was not only heavy, but his hands were _everywhere_. “Let’s sit--”

“No rock?” Steve’s hands were _still_ roaming, and Danny was pretty sure Steve’s hands had now touched him in more places than his ex-wife’s hands

“No. No rock. Sit, Steven--please.”

Steve let go, plopped on his ass. He swung his hand down, attempted to pat the moss--and mostly missed. He tipped his head back, giving Danny a wide, sunny smile. “Hey, Danny! Did you know you’re my number one Number One? ‘Cuz you are!”

Danny had no defense for that smile, and he smiled back, despite himself. He sat down, and reached out, “Come here--no, don’t lay down, Steve. No, don’t stand, sit--let’s just sit. Can you do that for me, buddy?”

Steve nodded, then swayed, and Danny quickly wrapped an arm around him. 

“Hey, Danny-danny-dan’noh.” Steve _snuggled_ against him, smiling like a lunatic. “You like old stuff. Like, old, old, old stuff.”

Before Danny could answer, Steve hummed for a second, then sang, “Aruba, Florida, oh I want to take you, to California beaches--”

“Babe, those are _not_ the words.” And yes, Kono was never, ever going to let them live this down, but--why not let Steve be truly happy for a few minutes more?

“Off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo.” Danny started singing, “That's where you want to go-oh, to get away from it all. Bodies in the sand--”

Steve joined in, “tropical drink melting in your hand. We'll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band. Down in Kokomo!”

All right, so Steve was loud and a little off key, but he had a good singing voice. Danny grinned at Kono, who now staring at them like they had both turned into Sharian mud bears.

“Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take ya. Bermuda, Bahama, come on, pretty mama.” Danny sang the first line of the chorus, and Steve finally found the tune, and, more surprisingly, most of the words.

They sang the rest of the song, and instead of stopping, Steve jumped back to the first verse. Danny went with it. The medical team finally materialized as they were finishing the song for the second time, and Danny squeezed Steve’s arm, got to his feet. “Come on, babe. Time to go home.”

“Home?” Steve’s eyes clouded in confusion---and then the wide and sloppy smile was back. He lurched to his feet. “Ship!”

And Danny had to grab Steve so he wouldn’t fall. Again.

~~+~~


	2. Skulduggery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: Sorry, it took longer than expected to wrestle this chapter into submission. Still woefully unbetaed.
> 
> Note 2: Danny served with Captain Pike on the Honolulu, before being transferred to the USS Enterprise. 
> 
> Note 3: Thank you for all the comments on part I. My personal head canon is Danny is touchy-feely because of his large family, but Steve is a naturally touchy-feely person. Steve lost his mom, the one person who gave him physical affection, when he was fifteen. Then he got hit by the triple whammy; boarding school, service, and hero worship of a father who looked down on such namby-pamby stuff. The result is most of the time Steve has his arms defensively crossed, but given half a chance--like a hug--and he turns into McGarrettOctopus. I figured Loopy Steve would be McGarrettOctopus dialed up to about ten :)
> 
> Note 4: Iloja of Prim is, in Star Trek canon, of the greatest of the Cardassian poets. Yes, I totally made up the quotes by channeling my inner Gul Dukat.

~~+~~

**Ria VII (Trapped)**

Steve straightened the collar of his dress uniform, then stepped out of the bathroom, and into the office that connected his quarters with those of his First Officer’s. “You ready?”

“No.” Danny was also wearing his dress uniform. He put his PADD down, and tugged at the high collar, “I get that we work for Starfleet and we are, therefore, expected to do the whole diplomatic dog and pony show--”

Steve smiled at the archaic words, “Dog and pony?”

“Yes, dog and pony, and why did you ask me a question if you’re just going to interrupt me?” Danny got to his feet, slid the PADD in the charging drawer. “This? Is not normal diplomacy. This is just weird and creepy.”

Secretly, Steve agreed with him--but he was the Captain, and he had set an example. “It's a sacred Ria’nn custom, Danny.”

“No, a sacred custom is lighting a candle, or throwing flowers into a lake--” Danny fell silent as they crossed the hall to the turbo lift. As soon as the doors closed, he started grousing again. “We’re having dinner, with skulls--with _skulls_ Steve--in a creepy castle.”

“They’re the skulls of the First Leaders and it’s a temple--”

“Ria’nn temples are made out of black stone.” Danny shot back, “They have moats and turrets and crenellated things. That means ‘castle’ in my book. And skulls are skulls.”

“Well, we don’t have a choice.” Steve could hear his voice falling into Chin’s ‘let’s be reasonable’ tone. “We’re honored guests.”

“Great, we’re the honored guests of feathery Triceratops.” Danny reluctantly walked out of the turbo lift and into the teleporter room. “I bet the First Leaders were honored guests, too.”

Quartermaster Xio looked up from the terminal, “I’ll have to beam you down into an open courtyard--the temple is built of a local rock that has a high quartz content.”

“Oh good.” Danny took his place on the pad. “So if we resort to ‘diplomatic javelining’ again, you can’t beam us out. I feel so, so much better about this shindig. Why aren’t we taking a security detail, again?”

“Because Command now frowns on taking security personnel to diplomatic events--” Steve looked down at him, “thanks to the last captain you served with.”

Danny threw his hands out. “I would just like to point out--for the record--Captain Pike was not responsible for what happened on Vijal. Or what happened on Star Base Six.”

“Or Boljin?” Steve was pretty sure nobody in Starfleet was ever going to forget what happened at Boljin.

“Or Liilis X?” Xio grinned at the look Danny threw him. “Beaming you down now, sir.”

~~+~~

Steve wished Danny hadn’t made the ‘feathery Triceratops” comment, because now he couldn’t unsee it. Under their thin, wispy robes, the Ria’nn were covered with blue-green fluff that looked exactly like bird feathers.

The Ria’nn also believed in shaving their heads, unless they were in mourning. With their beaked mouths, and bald, leathery skulls, and with the four inch curved horns over the eyes, and the flaring neck ruffles--they truly did look like bipedal Triceratops. 

At least the buffet was good; if one ignored the seven Triceratop-looking skulls sitting in the middle of the circle of salads and main dishes. Aside from the strange choice of table decorations, this shindig--as Danny liked to call it--was turning out to be one more boring evening, made even more annoying by having to be trussed up in a dress uniform.

Danny was being monopolized by a heavy-set Ria’nn who insisted he was a friend of Captain Pike. Steve, meanwhile, had been cornered by Lona and Beri, the two daughters of the Ria’nn Ambassador to Earth, who wanted to practice their Federation Standard on him. Well, Federation Standard _and_ Shakespearian sonnets--the Ria’nn were as avid about poetry as humans were about sports.

“We don’t quote poetry in casual conversation as much as you would think--” Steve stopped, because there was now a commotion going on near the main entrance of the banquet hall.

“Dishonor me, will you?” A Ria’nn in a garish uniform of black and red, and waving a vey large and very gold sword strode through the guests. “I will show you dishonor!”

He spat on one of the skulls.

Several Ria’nn shrieked and Lona, the taller of the two daughters, muttered something that Steve’s universal translator refused to translate. 

The foppishly-dressed Ria’nn spit on a second skull--and everything went to hell.

There was an explosion outside, violently shaking the temple. At the same time, temple guards appeared, and began chasing the Ria’nn interloper through the crowd. The guests panicked, stampeding for the exits, as the Ria’nn bulldozed through them with his drawn blade. 

And then a second, bigger explosion rocked the stones; raining down mortar and plaster.

Steve looked at Danny, “The skulls!” 

They both ran to the buffet, and Steve braked, because there were seven big, bulky skulls, with horns and frills, and how in the hell--

“Put them under the table!” Danny grabbed one, fighting with the tablecloth as he thrust it under the massive wooden trestle table.

Lona and Beri appeared beside them. Lona picked up a skull, while Beri held up the edges of the tablecloth, “Hurry!”

Two more explosions, one after another, and Steve could hear ominous cracking noises above them. He thrust one skull, then another under the table. Reached up--but Lona was already holding the last one. 

There was a deafening roar overhead, and Steve didn’t think, just shoved Lona under the edge of the table, trying his best to protect her and the skull--

He braced, listening to the awful sounds of snapping timber and falling rock and guests screaming--

Nothing hit him. 

Steve opened his eyes. 

Solid blackness. 

He reached down, pulled his tricorder out of its case, thumbed on the small beam of light. A couple of the hefty ceiling beams had fallen across the table, forming a small, almost cave-like space. He moved carefully, angling the light up. He could see massive stones lying on top of the fallen beams.

One wrong shift, and it would all come down.

"This… will… teach me… to make… jokes.. about… javelins.”

Steve twisted, and oh fuck, Danny was on his back; his shoulder impaled by a very long, jagged piece of wood.

“Danny!” He said it at the same time as Beri, who had wedged herself against the table leg, said “Lona!”

Lona was curled tight around the skull. She opened her eyes, uncurled, and then stroked her sister’s neck frill reassuringly.

Steve, meanwhile, had edged over on his hands and knees, being careful not to bump the rafters. “Don’t move--we’re going to get you out of here.” He put a hand on Danny’s chest, flipped open his communicator with his other hand. He did his best to block out the muffled cries and moans coming from beyond their tiny prison. “Enterprise? I need a med team down here, now.”

Lona passed the skull to Beri and crawled over. She nodded at Steve as she also put a hand on Danny, making sure he stayed still.

“Hey, boss.” He could hear the relief in Kono’s voice. “Chin’s already talking to the priests. Where are you?”

“We’re trapped near where the center columns were at. I’m turning on the emergency beacon now.” He punched the code into the tricorder, glanced over. Saw the other six skulls were sitting, unharmed, under the table. “I need you to get a med team down here--Danny’s hurt. And tell the priests that the skulls--and the Ambassador’s daughters--are safe.” 

He heard Kono’s muffled voice, as she talked to somebody. She was back a moment later. “The Chief’s beaming down with Kermit. And Chin’s letting the Ria’nn know the skulls are safe.”

Steve eyed the rocks, which were precariously balanced over their heads--but if anybody could get them out, his bet would be on Chief Engineer Lou Grover.

“All right. And tell Lou to bring a pipe cutter.” Steve looked at the piece of wood, which was nearly the thickness of his wrist. “GNDN pipe, size 125. And hurry.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Steve closed his communicator. Fuck. He felt helpless--and there was nothing he could do but wait.

Danny’s breathing was becoming more labored, “So… who… was… Mister… Fancy… Pants?”

“My ex.” Beri’s voice was barely above a whisper. She dropped her head, staring down at the skull in her lap, “I should’ve never--”

“He cheated on you.” Lona’s voice was taut with anger. “Twice.”

“ _What… man… who... breaks… fealty to… his love… can… the State... then… trust?_ " Danny grated out.

The distraction worked.

“Is that Shakespeare?” Beri raised her head.

“Iloja.. of... Prim.”

Steve smiled despite himself. Only Danny could quote Cardassian poetry at a time like this. He reached over, took Danny’s left hand.

"That’s the Cardassian poet, right?" Lona still had a hand on Danny’s chest, “ _Only the coward argues that which the State knows to be right._ ”

Steve’s communicator chirped. He flipped it open, “Yeah?”

“We should be getting close.” Lou’s voice was steady, almost conversational. “Need you to tell me if you can see our lights yet.”

Steve thumbed off the tricorder light, plunging them into darkness.He gripped Danny’s hand a little tighter, waiting, but he didn’t see anything--

“There!” Beri pointed behind him.

Steve twisted, saw a steady beam of light coming from the rubble behind him. “Yeah, we can see a light.”

‘Good. Just sit tight.” Lou’s tone was still calm, reassuring. “This should be the easy part--but I need you to tell me if anything starts to shift.”

They waited for what seemed like an eternity--and then the small beam of light became a slightly larger square and then, suddenly, a much bigger hole. Lou’s head and bulky shoulders appeared, and Beri crawled forward, handed him the skull. Lou took it, helped her out. 

Chief Medical Officer Max Bergman crawled in next, followed by an intern hauling a portable spot light. “Good evening, Captain, First Officer Williams.”

“Decided... to crash... the… party… Kermit?” Danny joked, through gritted teeth.

“Perhaps this is not the time to joke about crashing?” Max’s gaze flicked to the rubble above them. He gave Danny a hypo spray of something, and Danny’s hand went limp as the drug knocked him out.

Lona removed her hand, “I’d better check on my sister.” 

She left, while Max scrutinized the long piece of splintered wood. He lifted his eyes, “You were correct in your assessment, Captain--a pipe cutter is, indeed, the easiest solution.”

Steve let go of Danny’s hand reluctantly. Max and his team were going to need room to work. “Take care of him, all right?”

Max raised his eyes again, and nodded, “Always, Captain.”

~~+~~

Steve rolled his shoulders and neck, trying to stave off some of the exhaustion as he waited to beam back to the Enterprise. Chin had actually sent down two medical teams, as well as three dozen other crew members. For the past few hours, Steve had done his best to keep his mind off Danny, focusing instead on the Ria’nn--and his crew.

Watching his crew search for the trapped, comfort survivors, and assist with stabilizing the other buildings had been… He tried to find a good word, but could only come up with was _humbling_. A reminder that a captain was only as good as his crew.

In the end, there were seven dead, and nineteen injured. Surprisingly low, considering how many had been crowded into the temple. Unfortunately, one of the dead was the Ambassador to Earth. Steve could still see Lona and Beri, as they clung to each other in grief.

Another group of crew members disappeared in the shimmer of the transportation beam. Steve counted--only him and six other personnel were now left.

What made things so much worse was the attack was violence for the sake of violence--the terrorists had wanted to destroy the First Leaders’ skulls, and cared nothing for the lives shattered by their actions. Now seven were dead, many more injured, and a historic temple lay in ruins--all because some group had hoped to ignite a war.

It was the attack on the Douglas station all over again. 

Steve felt like he was fifteen, watching the holovid reports, trying--and failing--to make sense of the attack. His dad and the many others who’d died had simply been expendable, seen as little more than collateral damage to those who wanted to drag Starfleet into a war--

He felt the icy tingle of the transportation beam, materialized a moment later on the pad in the Enterprise’s transportation room. He stood there for a second, confused. The transportation room was crowded, with Chin and six other crew members waiting.

And then Steve’s tired brain dredged up ‘restorative medicine’, which was Starfleet’s latest initiative. One of the components of the program was assigning buddies to personnel who were exposed to a ‘severe, traumatic event’. Today certainly qualified.

He watched as the crew paired off, looked at Chin.

“Yep, I’m your buddy. If it helps, just think of it as setting a good example for the crew.” Chin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Before you ask, Danny’s been out of surgery for a couple of hours.” The turbo lift doors opened and he steered Steve into the lift. “Sickbay. They’re watching him now for possible infection--Max says it might be a couple of days before they can use the regenerator.”

“And Grace?”

“Chellea took her to her quarters for the night--after Grace grilled Kermit to make sure Danny was going to be all right.” The corner of Chin’s mouth quirked up. “I’m pretty sure she already knows more medical terms than I do.”

“She was helping Lou re-program one of the food replicators yesterday.” Steve leaned against the wall, “I think we may be in trouble.”

The turbo lift arrived at sickbay and Chin’s hand landed again on Steve’s shoulder as he pushed off the wall. It was already well into the third watch, and Chin nodded at the night nurse, before heading to the section of sickbay that held the med-chambers. 

Danny was in the first one, his body half-hidden under a portable stasis chamber. He was still--too still--and Steve pulled his gaze up to the diagnostic screens. He relaxed a little when he saw all of Danny’s vital signs were in the green zones.

Kono was in a nearby chair. She got up, walked over, “Max came by a while ago--said everything was looking good.”

She looked as tired as him. Steve could only imagine what Kono and everyone else on the bridge must’ve been going through, when the first reports of the attack started rolling in. He turned, and hugged her. 

Kono stiffened, then gave him a quick hug back. She pulled away and looked down at Chin--who had stolen her chair.

Chin gave a small half-shrug, “Superior officer.”

“He’s right.” Steve deliberately dropped into the other empty chair, stretched out. 

“Fine.” But Kono was trying--and failing--to hide a smile as she went to get another chair.

~~+~~


	3. Getting Hitched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1:This chapter contains **MAJOR spoilers** for the first story. All you really need to know is the Guy’an treaty was accomplished through ice cream diplomacy, Steve’s parents were both JAG (judge advocate general), and Danny’s mom runs a space station.
> 
> Note 2: If you aren’t an NCIS:LA fan, Hetty Lange is the director for the LA office. She is tiny, fierce, loves tea, and is an all around badass. Since JAG is canon (at least in the Star Trek books), Hetty is in JAG in this fic. Section 31 is Starfleet’s black ops.
> 
> Note 3: Yes, Bynars are canon and yes, their names are binary :)
> 
> Note 4: I have waved the white flag and added an Appendix, as chapter 8, to the first story
> 
> Note 5: This was a beast of a chapter and still un-betaed, so.. sorry?

~~+~~  
**USS Enterprise (Hitching a Ride)**

Instead of sleeping, Steve listened. He got out of bed, ordered the lights on at twenty-five percent, and rapped on the bathroom door. “Danny?”

He waited, knocked again. “Your shoulder acting up?”

Danny opened the door, his face tight with pain. “Yeah. but I--”

“Come on.” Steve jerked his head toward the nearest bed--which happened, this time, to be his. 

Thanks to Danny’s injury a month ago on Ria, the whole ‘sharing a bed’ thing was turning into a nightly habit. It was _not_ because Steve slept better, and had less nightmares, when they bunked together.

Danny made a token grunt of protest, but padded over, dropped down on the bed. Steve followed him. “Lay down.”

“You know, you could stop ordering me around.” Danny grumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt, easing it over his stiff shoulder.

“And you still haven’t told me how--” Danny stretched out, his words devolving into a small hiss as Steve straddled him, pressing the heel of his palms into the small of his back.

“Danny? Shut up.” Steve shook his head at the second grunt of protest, which turned into a low ‘fuck’ as Steve’s hands began to dig into tense muscles.

The truth was, Steve was competitive. The first guy he dated, back in boarding school, had liked to talk about his old boyfriend’s ‘awesome’ back rubs. Steve refused to play runner-up, especially to someone’s ex, so he had spent more time than he cared to admit learning how to give great back massages. 

Steve had arrived at San Francisco and the Starfleet Academy a few years later, and found it was actually a handy skill--and one that gave him a decided edge when it came to hooking up. Although it was hard to call what he’d done at the Academy ‘dating’. He and Clay and their circle of friends had all been officer track; there’d been occaisonal reach around sex, but very little time for actual dating. 

He could feel Danny’s muscles starting to unlock. He switched to thumbs and fingers, working his way up, taking his time, kneading out knots and stiffness. Everyone had _that_ spot, where they went from being slightly self-conscious, to ‘holy shit, do more of that’. 

Danny’s spot was right between the shoulder blades. Steve smiled at the low moan Danny made. He took a little extra time to work the tension out between shoulder blades and spine. Danny gave another couple of moans, his entire body relaxing. 

Finally.

Steve switched back to the heels of his hands, began rubbing Danny’s right shoulder. He could feel the slight roughness of the dura-skin grafts, and the raised edges of the surgical scars. It said quite a bit about Max’s skill that a few scars and a couple of patches of dura-skin were the only evidence of Danny’s recent injury. He found a particularly tight knot just below the surgery scars, kneaded--

\--and Danny was asleep.

Steve grinned. He finished massaging Danny’s shoulder, stood up, adjusted himself before walking around the bed. Not that he was attracted to his First Officer--it’d just been a really, really long time since he’d had sex. Steve heard quite a few stories about the other captains and their ‘exploits’ and frankly, he wondered how they managed to find the time. He loved the Enterprise, but she was also a champion at cock-blocking him.

He slipped back into bed, ordered the lights off, and was just falling asleep when his comm chirped. He groaned and got back up. Went into their office so he wouldn’t wake Danny, “Yes?”

"Captain? This is Quartermaster Kyra. We need you in Shuttle Bay.”

Steve heard the ‘status report: seriously fucked up’ tone in Kyra’s voice and was instantly, immediately wide awake. “I’m on my way.”

He threw his pants and shirt on top of Danny’s discarded shirt, yanked on his uniform, and sprinted out the door.

~~+~~

Steve stepped out of the turbo lift--and came to an abrupt halt. Protocol said that as the Captain, he was to be notified of any, and all, ships rendezvousing with the Enterprise.

He’d received no such notification. 

So why the hell was a ship--a small, sleek personal cruiser--sitting in the middle of _his_ shuttle deck? There was also a Commodore and a Vice Admiral, in dress greys, standing in front of said ship. They were surrounded by four Security personnel, Second Security Officer Walker, and Quartermaster Kyra.

“Captain!” Kyra had her phaser out, a dangerous look in her eye, and her antennae were quivering. “They somehow used the ship’s emergency codes to force the bay doors to open!”

Which explained the ship--sort of--but didn’t explain the unannounced presence of Commodore Adam Noshimuri and Vice Admiral Hetty Lange. 

“Stand down.” Steve used his captain’s bark, and Kyra lowered her phaser reluctantly. 

The Security officers just looked relieved. 

Steve had known Hetty his entire life, but it wasn’t until he became Captain that he began to suspect she was a little less JAG, and a little more Section 31. Which made him wonder how exactly his father and Hetty had become good friends--and why she always wore a black glove on her left hand. 

It didn’t mean he could let the lack of Starfleet protocol slide. 

Steve crossed his arms, “Vice Admiral Lange? Is that your ship?”

“It is--and you have my sincere apologies, Captain. You know I’m not one to barge in, not without knocking first.” Hetty gave him a warm, almost fond smile, and Steve was reminded of the last time he’d seen her--at his swearing-in-ceremony for command of the Enterprise. “I was so sorry to hear about Clay. He was a good man, and a damn fine officer.”

“He was.” He looked at the cruiser, back at Adam--and down at Hetty. “Tea?”

Kyra’s jaw dropped. 

Second Security Officer Walker blinked.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Hetty’s smile widened. “Could I trouble you to post a security detail for my ship?” 

“Walker, put Gav and Kessil on security detail for the Vice Admiral’s ship. Rotate them out at shift change. Let’s go to my--” Steve stopped, because everything that occured in his ready room was recorded, per Starfleet regulation. “--personal office.”

“I think that would be best.” Hetty nodded, “We need to talk.”

Steve headed for the turbo lift--and then it hit him. 

Danny was asleep in his bed.

Which he did _not_ want to explain.

He paused at the comm panel. “Let me just tell my First Officer we’re coming.” 

Hetty’s eyebrows raised, and Adam stared at him. 

Damnit, that had come out wrong.

“We share an office.” Steve gave them both a hard look, as if he was offended by their assumption. Which he kind of was. He and Danny were sleeping together--they just weren’t _sleeping_ together.

He punched in the code that activated the comms for both his and Danny’s quarters. “Number One?”

“Yes?” Danny’s voice was sleep-rough.

“Sorry to wake you.” Steve kept his voice clipped, professional. “Me and the Vice Admiral are heading up there.”

“So, we are now scheduling meetings,” Danny got the hint, and his tone changed to the brusque, what-the-living-hell tone he used for chewing out crewmembers who were fucking up, “during third watch, with Command staff that shouldn't even be on the ship?”

“I’ll explain when I get there.” Steve looked back down at Hetty. He always forgot just how short she was--she barely reached his chest. “Can you heat up some water for tea?”

“Oh. _That_ Vice Admiral. Sure, I think there may even be a can of real tea--somewhere.” There was a click as Danny punched the comm off.

Steve got into the turbo lift. The doors closed, blocking his view of Walker and Kyra, who were still staring at the three of them with baffled expressions. He shifted, so he could look Adam in the eye.

“Nice work wrangling the Guy’an treaty.” Adam gave him an amiable grin, ignoring the silent question.

“May I say the use of butter pecan ice cream was a brilliant, if albeit slightly unconventional tactic.” Hetty smiled as well, “And how is little Miss Grace doing?”

“Grace?” Adam glanced over, “Who’s Grace?”

“My Number One’s daughter.” Steve wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to ask for a favor, especially if it would keep Grace on the Enterprise. “And despite First Officer Williams'--and my CMO's--best efforts, there seems to be a lot of red tape holding up the adoption process.”

“Red tape--or green tape?” Hetty shook her head, “When it comes to vrekasht, Vulcans can be _quite_ illogical.”

“Wait--Rachel had a kid?” Adam was now glancing from Steve to Hetty, and back to Steve. “Why are the Vulcans involved?”

“Miss Grace, Commodore, is the orphaned daughter of vrekasht, exiled Vulcans. First Officer Williams has become her de facto parent, since Vulcan High Command continues to insist she is to be treated as persona non grata.” Hetty patted Steve’s arm. “I do so hate having to deal with sulky Vulcans, but I’ll make an exception in this case.”

It was Steve’s turn to nod, “Thank you.”

~~+~~

Danny had made good use of the time it took for Steve, Hetty, and Adam to get from the shuttle bay to their quarters. He was wearing a clean uniform, had styled his hair and shaved, and had even straightened up the ever-devolving mess on his side.

More importantly, he’d removed the pile of intermingled clothes on Steve’s side. 

Danny held out a chair, and Hetty sat down. He pushed it in, kissed her on the cheek, then placed a cup in front of her, “Tea. It has one more minute to steep. Sorry, it was either Earl Grey--or replicator dish water.”

Hetty chuckled at the dishwater comment, “Earl Grey is fine. How is your mother?”

“My mother’s fine, but I hate you so much for foisting Kyle off on us. Captain? Coffee.”

Apparently Steve wasn’t the only one who had Hetty as a fixture in his life. He took the mug and sat down.

“Commodore?”

“Coffee.” Adam took the third chair, “Unless you have raktajino?”

“Always.” Danny replied, and began making two more cups.

“Kyle is an excellent Security Officer.” Hetty pulled the tea ball out, took a small sip. She looked over the rim at Steve. “I understand he recently foiled an attempt to kidnap the Danteri diplomat’s son.”

“I heard that, too.” Steve took a swallow of coffee, still amused at how his own role in stopping the kidnapping had been whittled down in subsequent reports.

Danny handed a mug to Adam, took a huge swallow from his own cup. He leaned against the wall, “All right, I know that face. Just how bad is it?”

Hetty set her cup down. “We think we know what happened on Calenda-III.”

 _Fuck._ Steve watched Danny’s face change, his expression suddenly hard, his eyes guarded. Danny’s brother and two other personnel had disappeared from the mining outpost on Calenda-III more than three years ago.

“I wasn’t kidnapped by those Rigelians. I was on their freighter to retrieve something that belonged to Starfleet; a stolen memory bank.” Adam leaned forward, put his elbows on the table, “Though I appreciate the rescue.”

Steve suddenly saw the whole rescue in a different light. “That’s why you insisted we take the loader.”

“Yes. I had just enough time to hide the bank in the loader before I was captured.”

Danny’s jaw tightened, “So, what exactly was on this memory bank?”

Hetty and Adam looked at each other, before Hetty answered, “A copy of all the data that was wiped from the outpost’s computer system.”

 _What the hell?_

Steve had a sinking feeling he was going to regret the next question, “Who did the Rigelians steal it from?”

“Marcus.” Hetty said the Fleet Admiral’s name like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “The incompetent ass was carrying the memory bank with him, instead of keeping it in a secured location.”

“Yes, but we should be thankful he’s an incompetent ass.” Adam took another swallow of raktajino. “The Rigelian theft forced him to tell us the memory bank existed, and it needed to be retrieved. The fact he is an incompetent, trusting ass made it easy to hand him a replica--and to keep the real memory bank for ‘processing’.

He raised his mug toward Hettie, “Of course, your hunch was right. Marcus was lying through his eye teeth--the memory bank had nothing to do with stolen data from the Starfleet Archive.”

“No, but it explained a hell of a lot about what Marcus was up to on Calenda-III.” Hetty took a sip of tea, “It wasn’t a mining outpost-- they were developing a new type of teleporter.”

“It _was_ a mining outpost.” Danny began pacing. “They were supposed to be working on new ways to teleport both ore and equipment underground.”

Hetty shook her head, “I’m afraid that was just a cover story. Marcus was testing a weapon, a weapon that used teleportation.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. The Federation’s ban on using teleportation as a weapon was right up there with the Prime Directive as one of those uncrossable lines.

It also explained why Hetty and Adam had wanted to keep this visit to the Enterprise off the official channels--

 _Damn._ And he’d always looked up to the Fleet Admiral.

“Which is precisely why we are here. Marcus is guilty of weaponizing teleportation at the very least.” Hetty continued, “What’s on that bank proves the existence of the weapon, but more importantly, it also gives us possible witnesses. There are three teleportation beam signatures on the bank--and we don’t think it was done willingly.”

There was a long silence as the implications of what she had just said sunk in. Danny’s brother and the other two techs had been teleported--but were never rematerialized. They were still stuck inside the memory bank, waiting to be freed.

And Steve had thought it couldn’t get any worse.

“It won’t work.” Danny’s face was still hard, unreadable, but his eyes were now haunted, “Nobody’s ever retrieved a teleportation signature that old. Signatures degrade overtime.”

Hetty looked at Adam.

“We think it might be doable. The degradation actually occurs from the heavy use of most memory banks; the constant writing and rewriting data. These signatures were written on a fresh memory bank, and then immediately stored.”

_We think it might be doable._

Steve had always thought Adam was just a pencil pusher and a diplomat. Clearly, he was deep, very deep, in Section 31.

“So, you’re saying we can use a teleporter to pull the signatures back out, and rematerialized all three techs.” Privately, Steve agreed with Danny, but if Adam thought it would work...

Adam sat back in his chair, “It’s not that simple. They used the new weapon to teleport them, and since it’s a different technology, Starfleet’s teleportation systems can’t read the signatures. We’ve spent the past couple of months creating a modulator that we believe should work--if we can address two potential issues.”

Steve eyed him, wishing Adam would just tell him if they could save Danny’s brother--or not. “Which are?”

“First,” Hetty held up one gloved finger, “the modulator draws a lot of energy, much more than is normal for a teleportation system.”

Everything became crystal clear. They needed a Constitution-class ship, and a Captain who would be willing to let them shove untested technology into his ship. “You need the Enterprise, because we have the new cargo teleporter--it can draw extra power from the engines if needed.” Steve crossed his arms, “What’s the second problem?”

“Our models showed there is a slight chance, less than 5%, of a malfunction when materializing the signatures.” Hetty answered. “Let’s just say it would be best to find an uninhabited planet to materialize all three to--just in case.”

“And what are the risks to my ship?”

Adam held his eyes. “There’s also a small chance, less than 3.5%, of a power feedback event.”

“That might not be a problem.” Danny was back to pacing. “The shuttle bay’s hooked directly into the powerbanks for aux life support. We should be able to reroute power to the cargo teleporter through the powerbanks. The couplers would stop any feedback.”

Adam stopped mid-swallow and stared at Danny. 

Despite the totally fucked up conversation they were having, Steve had to smile. For a guy who wasn’t officially cross-trained, Danny was pretty damn good when it came to engineering.

“All right, I want my Chief Engineer to look at the modulator and your data.” Steve stood up, “If he says it's doable, then we’ll head back to Wilkes II. It’s a cemetary, so there are no life forms--well, sentient life forms--to worry about.” Steve stepped over to the comm panel. “Lou? Sorry to wake you. I need to see you in my quarters--immediately.”

~~+~~

The Enterprise was in orbit over Wilkes II again, and Steve was watching Chin and Lou double-check and triple-check the upgraded cargo teleportation system.

The last few days had been frantic.

Chief Engineer Lou Grover and his engineers had pulled several double shifts, installing the modulator and rerouting the power cabling to the cargo teleporter in record time. Meanwhile, 11110 and 11111, the coupled Bynars who were the ship’s Assistant Chief Engineers, had huddled with Adam, crawling through the data on the memory bank, checking and rechecking everything.

And Hetty, being Hetty, commandeered his ready room, and taught Grace to make tea and play the Vulcan lute.

Which just left Danny. 

The bridge crew somehow got it in their heads that Danny shouldn’t be left alone--and a few of them also decided Danny needed to be cheered up. Danny had spent the last few days being annoyed at the constant interruptions, or bitching at Steve about the constant interruptions.

Steve chalked the whole thing up to a pretty successful team-building exercise. Sure, the crew hadn’t really done a good job keeping Danny company or cheering him up--but they had done a stellar job of keeping him distracted.

Now it just came down to Chin, the modulator, and the integrity of three-year old teleportation signatures.

He glanced over at Danny, who was standing there like he was carved out of stone. The plan was to beam each tech down individually, then have Xio beam each one back to the ship using the personnel transporter in the saucer, where Max was waiting. Just in case.

Steve straightened his shoulders, “Chin? Are we ready?”

Chin nodded, his fingers flying over the controls. “Beaming Cadet Haron down to the planet’s surface.”

A second later, Chin gave a small nod, and it seemed almost anti-climatic after several days of scrambling to make the modulator work. “Rematerialization was successful. Xio? You can beam the cadet back to the ship.” 

There was a pause and then, “Cadet Haron is aboard, sir.”

Chin’s hands moved again, “Beaming down Second Tech Matthew Williams.” 

Steve held his breath.

“Successful.” Chin’s lips quirked up. “Xio, you can beam Williams back up.”

“Yes, sir.” Another pause, “He’s aboard, sir.”

Steve blew out a breath, and he could see Danny’s shoulders slump in relief.

“Beaming First Tech A’jaivin to the planet’s surface.” Chin’s fingers were on the controls---he frowned.

Something was wrong.

 _Shit._ A’jaivin was Captain A’jaili’s granddaughter.

Next to him, Lou and Adam both crossed their arms, staring at the floor in nearly identical poses. Hetty folded her arms behind her back, and Danny became, if possible, even more still.

“Initiating second capture beam.” Chin’s voice was icy calm, and he continued to work the controls for what seemed like an eternity. And then, finally, he smiled. “She’s on the planet surface. Xio, you can beam First Tech A’jaivin back to the ship.”

“Yes, sir.” And then Xio said what they had all been waiting for. “She’s onboard, sir.”

Danny sprinted toward the turbo lift, while Steve clapped Chin on the shoulder, “Good work.”

“Thanks.” Chin glanced down at his hands, which were already beginning to shake from the adrenaline crash. “I think I need a drink.”

“Well, you’ve most certainly earned it.” Hetty smiled over at Adam, “And the same goes for you. But next time, Commodore, try to be a little more careful. I don’t want to get any more messages we’re sending one of our brand-new ships into the border zone to rescue you. Constitution-class ships are _expensive_.”

~~+~~

Someone, Steve suspected it was Kono, had started an impromptu party on the observation deck. He poured himself a glass of Saurian brandy and crossed over to the couch where Hetty was already perched. He sat down, looked around for Matty and Danny.

He saw them in the far corner. Grace was having what appeared to be a very animated discussion with her uncle. Danny was watching them both, and grinning like an idiot.

Something unlocked inside of Steve--some ball of tension he hadn't even realized he was carrying. He settled back into the cushions, sweeping his gaze over the rest of the party. Cadet Haron was talking to Pol and Gav, and all three Lurians were talking a mile a minute--at the same time. Typical Lurians.

A’jaivin was hanging out with Kono and Jenna. Chellea came up behind Kono, leaned down to say something. Steve was guessing it was about the music. Crew parties tended to start out with one of the popular club musics--like Terran Nu-pop or Andorian dance--then move into more interesting styles. 

“I would call this a very successful day, wouldn’t you, Captain?”

He glanced over at Hetty, “Yeah. Yeah, I would. It’s just--what do you think is going to happen to Marcus?”

Hetty lowered her glass. “You really are so much like your father. He was constantly looking for more windmills to tilt at, too." She patted his knee, “Take the win. There’s an entire galaxy, just full of new headaches waiting--oh, Capellan sync step! Excuse me, Captain.”

Hetty joined the growing chain of dancers as they snaked through the party, trying--and mostly failing--to keep their moves synced. Chellea pulled the Lurians into the line; Kono pulled Danny, Matty, and Grace in, and A’jaivin managed to snag both Lou and Adam.

A moment later, Max sat down next to him. Steve leaned over, trying to make himself heard over the music. “If they come this way, I’m not protecting you, Kermit.”

He realized, too late, what he had just said.

Max’s face lit up in a smile, “I am most appreciative of the warning, Steve.”

Sure enough, the line swung their way a few minutes later--and neither he or Max were able to say ‘no’ to Grace.

~~+~~


	4. Miner Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: Sorry, no prompt in this chapter. Chapter 3 was getting wordy, so I had this brilliant idea to just kick the ‘short wrap up scene’ to Chapter 4. Except, ‘short wrap up scene’ has now morphed into ‘two much longer scenes’. So, final bingo prompt will be tackled in chapter five. Hey, it's more fic, so yay?
> 
> Note 2: Second Trackers = unenlisted Starfleet personnel in this ‘verse.
> 
> Note 3: No there are not sub-species of Lurians in Star Trek, but damnit, there should be.

~~+~~  
**Calenda-III**

Calenda-III was a very old mining outpost, and a maze of small rooms, roughly carved from rock, served as crew quarters. The biggest of the rooms was a cave-like area near the planet’s surface, that did triple-duty as galley, mess hall, and rec room.

Second Technician Matty Williams stood in front of the massive food replicator--an old Southland which should’ve been retired when dinosaurs were still roaming the Earth. He considered his options, punched in a request for a dish that was supposed to be Tellarite, but which they jokingly called ‘Andorian beef’. It had the texture and taste of Terran meatloaf--but with a sweet, slightly tangy glaze that tasted exactly like Andorian vithi sauce.

While the replicator worked, Matty grabbed a bag of tubers, popped the seal, and dropped it in the stove unit. A couple of minutes later, the stove unit ejected the now cooked tubers. He gingerly picked up the hot bag, dropped it on his tray, added a cup of coffee, and retrieved the bowl of Andorian beef. 

He carried his dinner over to where Cadet Haron and First Tech A’jaivin were already eating. A’ja glanced at the doorway. “How did the recalibration go?”

The mess hall was the only place the three of them could talk freely. Matty had gone through a rebellious streak as a teenager, and had picked up a few tips and tricks about security systems along the way. He’d found and disabled all four listening devices in the room--and changed the frequency of the two vid-cams so they were recording badly degraded video.

“Recalibration went smoothly for once--it’s all set up and ready for the next series of tests.” Matty also glanced at the doorway, before adding, “At least the new parameters are for inorganic stuff.”

“Yeah, _this_ time.” A’ja was ploughing through a stack of protein crackers, had to stop to chew for a moment. “I still vote for contacting your mom, and my grandmother. They’ll listen to us.”

“Do you believe this is to happen? We greatly lack proof.” Haron poked a fork into his own dish of Andorian beef. “This is not an officer of any rank, it is the Fleet Admiral Marcus. We are just Second Trackers.”

“So, let’s find a way to get the proof. My older brother and A’ja’s grandmother, they could use their ships’ equipment to double-check our suspicions.” Matty tried to sound confident, but he kind of agreed with Haron. 

A’ja was like him--she’d also had a rebellious period in her youth, which meant Starfleet Academy was not an option. Haron was stuck as a Second Tracker for a different reason. There was at least a dozen subspecies of Lurians, and only two were Federation members. Haron’s home planet would make three--but they were going through the slow, tedious process of applying for membership.

Two Second Trackers with records, and a Cadet from some backwater planet nobody had heard of? Yeah, good luck getting _anybody_ to listen to them. Even his mom--or A’ja’s grandmother.

“Well, we still need to do _something_ ” A’ja looked toward the doorway again, “Teleporters aren’t supposed to be used as weapons--and don’t you think Fleet Admiral Marcus is starting to act, well, paranoid?”

Haron nodded. His neck frills tended to glow a little brighter when he was stressed--they were definitely glowing now. “I think the behavior of the Fleet Admiral Marcus has been most suspicious for a while--hsssss.”

They all dug into their meals at Haron’s warning hiss--his extremely sensitive hearing had saved them numerous times this past year. 

Sure enough, Fleet Admiral Marcus walked through the door a minute later. “Are you three almost finished? I’d really like to complete this set of tests today.” 

Marcus spoke in a reasonable tone, but it was definitely an order to hurry up and finish their meals. He glanced at the replicator, “I can’t believe Starfleet is still using these old Southland replicators--total junk in my opinion.”

In the year and half that Matty had been assigned to the outpost, the Fleet Admiral had visited Calenda-III nine times. So he knew what was coming next. 

Sure enough, Marcus started bragging about all the state-of-the-art crap on his personal cruiser. The cruiser where he slept and ate, so Marcus could avoid having to rub elbows with them.

And to think his mother actually admired the guy. 

Of course, Matty was pretty sure that Marcus never treated ‘real’ Starfleet personnel the way he was treating them. It was like Haron had said earlier--they were just Second Trackers.

A’ja finished her crackers, and went over to start the dish sterilizer, while Haron and Matty scarfed their meals as quickly as they could. They dropped their dishes and cups in the sterilizer, then followed Marcus down the hall to the mining lift.

Matty _hated_ the lift. Calenda-III had once been a Romulan mining operation. The Romulans had scooped out all of the cealystum, then abandoned the place. During one of the endless rounds of negotiations of the border, they had ceded the now useless Calenda-III to the Federation as a good faith gesture. 

Starfleet had slapped the label “research facility” on Calenda-III and renovated the crew quarters. The rest of the outpost, though, was pretty much still a Romulan mine. The lift was originally designed to bring up the ore from the tunnels below, and it was a large, rusty platform with no guard rails. Starfleet had put up some safety netting, but the nets looked dubiously flimsy. 

The three of them huddled together in the middle of the platform, while it lurched and screeched its way down the deep shaft. Marcus, meanwhile, was flicking through something on his PADD, apparently oblivious to the fact they were trusting their lives to very, very old Romulan technology.

The lift came to a stop with a shriek of metal on metal, and Matty and the other two techs filed off. 

Marcus didn’t even bother to look up from his PADD as he pointed. “I want to run another test on those DRX-drills.”

Matty hated DRX-drills almost as much as the lift. The mining drills were big and heavy, coming up nearly to his chest. He and A’ja walked over, each grabbing a handle of the nearest drill and then half-dragged, half-carried it to the pad. Haron followed behind them, using his brute strength to pull a second drill over.

Once both drills were on the large cargo pad, Haron fidgeted, his tail thumping back and forth. A’ja rubbed the small of her back, and looked murderous.

Matty turned, trying to keep his expression as polite as he possibly could. “Fleet Admiral Marcus? How many drills do you--”

\--he felt the chilly tingle of the teleportation beam--

“--need?” Matty was standing on a wide mossy plain. There were tall piles of reddish-white stone all around him, and some even bigger piles of black stone further off.

Son-of-a-bitch.

Marcus had used the teleporter _on_ him--and Matty had no clue where the Fleet Admiral had beamed him to--

He felt the icy tingle again, and now he was on a ship’s transporter pad. ”What the hell?!?”

A stocky Terran, whose black hair and cinnamon-brown complexion meant he was probably from a Martian colony, was at the teleportation controls. He gave Matty a wide smile, “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Second Tech Williams.”

Matty opened his mouth to ask questions, then he noticed Haron was also on the ship, and being scanned by a short Asian and a Gerron female in lime green med uniforms.

Haron puffed up his neck frills and shrugged, looking as confused as Matty felt.

What the hell was going on--and where was A’ja?

The Asian guy lowered the med tricorder. “Thank you, Cadet Haron. If you wouldn’t mind, Second Technician Williams?”

Matty’s brain, rather unhelpfully, spit out the fact the USS Enterprise was one of two new ships that were being built at Douglas Station. Which was obviously wrong, if he was _on_ the Enterprise. “Um--”

The Asian nodded. “You wish an explanation. One will be provided, but first, I would like to--”

“What the fuck is going on?”

Matty turned, saw A’ja on the pad, and she was _pissed._

The guy at the transporter smiled, “Welcome to the Enterprise, First Tech A’jaivin.”

A’ja crossed her arms and glared, “Somebody better start talking. If the Fleet Admiral thinks he can just order you guys to kidnap us--”

The Asian guy shook his head, as he continued to wave his tricorder at Matty, “Rest assured, First Technician A’jaivin, you have not been kidnapped. The opposite is, in fact, true. We have--”

“Matty!”

The turbo lift doors opened--and Matty was even _more_ confused. Why was his brother here? He was supposed to be on the USS Honolulu.

Danny swept him up in a bear hug, and Matty automatically hugged him back. Except Danny was hugging him very, very hard--and not letting go.

“Um, Danny?” Matty hugged him some more, and now he was starting to get scared. “Is it Mom? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

A’ja suddenly snatched the tricorder from the Gerron female. “I want answ--wait. Is this right? Three and half years?!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Matty pulled away, “Danny?”

“Yeah.” Danny put his hands on Matty’s biceps, as if he couldn’t quite let go yet. “You’ve been missing for three and half years. That asshole stored your signatures, instead of rematerializing you.”

 _Three and half years?_ It wasn’t quite sinking in.

Matty looked at A’ja and Haron, back at his brother. “You--you saved us?”

“Well,” Danny rocked back a little more, but his hands continued to clasp Matty’s shoulders, “it was the crew who did the real work.” 

Matty was waiting to freak out--he really kind of wanted to freak out--but his brain was kicking in another bit of information. His brother’s sleeves had different stripes. “Um, you’re a Commander?”

“Yeah. Let’s see, Rachel decided to stay on the Honolulu, I got promoted to First Officer of the Enterprise, Stella made Lieutenant Commander, Bridgett had the twins, Eric is in his second year at the Academy--and before you ask, yes, Mom and Kyle are still together.”

Which was so _Danny_. Matty was suddenly _almost_ sorry for the crew, because Danny could talk any crisis to death--and he also really needed his brother to keep talking.

“Mom? Does Mom know?”

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure that bag of rocks you call a head was in one piece.” Danny shifted, so he had one arm looped around Matty, as he glanced at Asian guy, “But if Kermit says things look good, then we have some quarters already set up, with comm links, so everybody can talk to their families.”

Asian guy--Kermit?--lowered his med tricorder, “None of the technicians show negative symptoms from the long delay in rematerialization.”

“Oh, trust me,” A’ja growled, “I’ve got negative symptoms--like I have a serious need to kick--"

“Vice Admiral Lange is already on it,” Danny cut in, “In fact, she wants to speak to our Mom and your grandmother. I’m guessing the three of them are going to court martial Marcus in the most humiliating way possible, and me? I’m going to enjoy every fucking moment of it.”

“I agree.” Haron had laid his neck frills back down, but his tail was thumping angrily on the floor, “Abject humiliation would be most best. I will gloat with you.”

~~+~~  
**USS Enterprise**

Steve dropped down on his bed, ordered the lights to 15 percent. He shouldn’t have had that third drink, but he was off duty tomorrow. He generally stuck to a couple of rules--he didn’t exercise his captain's prerogative for custom shifts, and he didn’t mess with the crew’s shift schedule. Today he had made an exception to both rules. He and Danny had the next two days off, while they headed to Space Station Nineteen. Again.

Steve made two attempts, finally managed to tug off his boots. He shucked his shirt, decided the undershirt and pants were too much bother, and slid under the covers. The room swam a little as he stretched out, and he closed his eyes. He’d forgotten just how much kick Saurian brandy had--and that he’d done very little heavy drinking since he’d taken command of the Enterprise.

He heard the doors opened a few minutes later on Danny’s side. Danny thumped around for a bit, before going into the bathroom. Then Steve felt the bed dip--and Danny settled beside him. 

He didn’t bother to open his eyes, but he shifted, stretching his arm out. “How’s your brother doing?”

“He’s somewhere between completely freaking out, and relieved to be heading back to Space Station Nineteen.” Danny dropped his head on Steve’s shoulder, “I get the feeling I’m going to be glad to dump his ass on Mom in a couple of days.”

There was laughter behind his grumbling, and Steve's mouth quirked up. Admiral Noshimuri had told him the key to keeping a ship running smoothly was to authorize whatever insanity the Chief Operations Officer asked for, and turn a blind eye whenever the Chief Engineer bucked protocol. 

It had been good advice--but clearly, having a happy First Officer was just as important.

“And how’s your shoulder?”

“Babe, while I appreciate the offer,” Danny was definitely laughing now, “You’re drunk. How many brandies did you have?”

“Three.”

“Three?” Danny sat up, tugged on Steve’s undershirt. “Come on, work with me here.”

Steve gave in, let Danny help him out of his undershirt and pants--wondering when exactly this had somehow become ‘normal’. 

“Nope, don’t lay down yet. Stay there.” Danny went into the bathroom, returned with two glasses of water, and a small vial. He poured the contents in one glass, handed it over. “Yes, it tastes like crap--just drink it.”

Steve made a face at the sickly sweet smell. “What is it?” 

“Let’s just say it might, or might not be, a Naran hangover cure.”

“And you didn’t smuggle illegal substances on my ship?” Steve braced himself, and managed, barely to choke down the stuff. It tasted even worse than it smelled, and left a weird, almost slimy coating in his mouth.

“No, because that would be a breech of Starfleet regulations.” Danny handed over the other glass of water. “And as a commanding officer, I aspire to set a good example for the crew.”

The water helped wash away the taste. Steve handed Danny the glass, and stretched out. “Or to poison the captain.”

“That too.” Danny’s voice was amused as he ordered the lights off, got into bed. He slipped an arm across Steve, “Now, shut up and let me get some sleep. I got two more days of dealing with my brother.”

~~+~~


	5. A Genesis of a Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1:**hands over TWO chapters AND an Epilogue**
> 
> Note 2: Yes, this is a tad bit late because my muse got wordy. And one more chapter became three more chapters. But--it's done! \o/
> 
> Note 2: **runs up white flag** Yes, my attempt to keep this fic as a stand alone has completely failed at this point. 
> 
> Note 4: A ship (and pretty much any other large self-powering object) needs a ‘shake-down’ cruise after leaving dry dock to find and fix what didn’t get installed quite right.
> 
> Note 5: Still woefully unbetaed.

~~+~~  
**USS Enterprise (Prompt: Eerie Lake)**

“You said you needed something?” Danny walked into the ready room, wondering a bit about Steve’s cryptic message, “If I didn’t know better, I would almost think this was your day off, and you were supposed to be doing something fun, like working out--or exploring new and exciting ways to get kidnapped.”

Steve glanced up from the PADD he was holding, gave him a rather goofy smile. “Vulcan High Command has withdrawn their objection to the adoption.”

Danny sat down. He sucked in a breath. “So, uh, what’s that mean?”

“It means we need to be at the Jupiter colony next month--a judge will finalize the adoption.” Steve glanced at his PADD, tapped something. “It’s an inter-species adoption; the adoption has to be finalized on official ‘Earth’ or ‘Vulcan’ soil--”

 _More_ bureaucratic idiocy. “So Earth, or one of her colonies.”

“Yeah. And you need at least three character witnesses,” Steve continued to flick his fingers over his PADD, “but you already have six. I’m submitting the necessary forms now.”

“Six?” Danny had figured he would ask Steve and Kermit--and maybe Captain Pike.

“Kermit, Hetty, Pike, Rachel, that Betazoid counselor, and myself. I just talked to Pike--they’ll pick up the counselor on their way to Jupiter.” Steve tapped his PADD again, then rocked back in his chair, grinning like an idiot. “This is when you say thank you--since I’m doing all this paperwork on my day off.”

“Thank you.” Danny found himself grinning as well, partially at the joke--but mostly because Steve looked so damn pleased with himself. “Although I’m not sure how I feel about you talking to my ex behind my back--”

Danny stopped because Steve was again looking at his PADD, and whatever he was reading had wiped the smile from his face. “Steve? What’s going on?”

Steve’s mouth set in a grim line, as he continued to scroll through the message he was reading. “Marcus committed suicide.”

“Fuck. I wanted to watch that asshole get--”

“Actually, it might be a good thing.” Steve finally pulled his gaze away from the PADD. “Looks like Command feels guilty about not noticing something was up with Marcus. The admissions board for the Academy is holding a special session. They’re asking if I would be willing to submit the recommendation letter for Matty.”

It took Danny a moment to catch up--anyone applying to the Academy had to submit at least one letter of recommendation with their application. “The Academy's going to accept my brother?”

Steve nodded, “The admissions board is considering making an offer to Matty and the other two. I assume you want me to submit the letter?”

“Yeah.” It was sinking in. Not only was he finally being allowed to adopt Grace, but his brother was being offered a do-over. “Shit, Eric _and_ Matty will both be in the Academy.”

“Four kids and a nephew. That should give your mother bragging rights.” Steve turned off the PADD. “I have to have the letter done by tomorrow--”

“You want me to write it.” Danny didn’t bother to make it a question--Steve _hated_ writing recommendation letters. 

Steve dropped the PADD in the charging drawer, “Would you mind, babe?”

“Sure.” Danny waited for Steve to catch what he’d just said, but he was already on his feet, heading towards the door. Danny stood up with a small smile, and followed.

~~+~~

Danny finished the recommendation letter--and then he forgot. He twisted a little in his chair, meaning to to drop the PADD on Steve’s desk, and his shoulder immediately locked up.

Of course, this _had_ to be the moment Steve walked in. “I’m going to order dinner. Where’s Grace?”

“Dance class.” Danny tried rolling his shoulder, only to have the muscles spasm more.

“Yeah? Which dance class?”

It was a fair question. Starfleet tried to assign crews with similar cultures together. Most of the Terrans and Andorians aboard came from cultures that had a shared love of dance and food--and of course, there wasn’t a Capellan who didn’t love dancing. The result was the ship’s calendar was stacked with everything from sync-step to Lurian waltz.

It was also proof his mother had been right all along, when she’d insisted her kids needed to know dance and art and other cultural stuff. And now it was his turn to do the same exact thing to Grace.

“It’s new. Grace wanted to learn Hawaiian dance, then Chellea and Jenna also wanted to learn Hawaiian dance--so Kono’s teaching a class now.”

“It’s called hula.” Steve picked up the PADD. “You already wrote the letter?” 

“Yep, letter’s done.” He rotated his shoulder again, felt the muscles finally loosening a little. “What are you ordering for supper?”

Steve glanced over at him, frowned. “Your shoulder bothering you?”

“A little.” Danny admitted, “I moved wrong.” 

Steve placed the PADD on the desk, jerked his head toward his bed. “Lay down. I’ll give you a massage.”

Danny wanted to. His shoulder was throbbing, and Steve gave really _damn_ good back rubs. But he was also about to adopt Grace--which meant he and Steve needed to address, well, whatever was going on between them.“Steve? What are we doing here?”

Steve froze, his expression becoming guarded. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m bi, and you swing for the other team, and last I checked, Starfleet leaves ‘interpersonal issues at the discretion of the captain”, so I’ll repeat the question, what exactly are we doing here?”

“Nothing.” Steve turned on his heel, heading for the door. “There’s nothing going on here, but since you want to take my offer the wrong way, I’ll grab dinner in the mess hall.”

The doors shut behind him.

Danny sank back in his chair. _What the hell?_

~~+~~

Steve found himself at the exercise track in engineering. He walked a few laps, trying to cool off--though he wasn’t sure why he was angry. Or why he’d snapped at Danny.

Once his temper was firmly in check, Steve considered heading to the mess hall, decided he just didn’t feel up to dealing with the crew tonight. Instead, he took the turbo lift over to the deck that held the diplomat suites. 

The deck was currently restricted, since the suites weren’t being used. He punched in his override code, grabbed a bowl of kayra from the small galley, took a seat in the adjoining lounge to eat it. 

He’d just taken a few bites when Chin appeared in the doorway. “You do realize I get a personal alert if somebody uses stores in a restricted area, right? Want to tell me why you’re eating down here, tonight?”

Steve swallowed, looped his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?”

Chin’s tone was casual, though his eyes were dark with worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” 

He half-expected Chin to push the issue, but instead he sat down next to Steve. “Been a while since we sparred. Want to go a few rounds after you finish?”

Steve swallowed again, happy for any excuse to stay away from his quarters for the next couple of hours. “Sure.”

~~+~~

It was late, already third watch, when Steve headed to his quarters. Danny’s side was dark.

He took a quick shower, slipped into a pair of sweats. He tried to sleep, but found himself staring at the ceiling instead. His earlier conversation with Danny was like a sore tooth--he kept poking at it, only to flinch away. 

His comm chirped.

Steve sat up, hit it. “Yes?”

“Starfleet has ordered us to Regula, priority one.” Chief Helm Officer Duke Lukela informed him. “Course already laid in, sir.”

“Did they say why?” Steve was on his feet, snagging a clean uniform.

“It’s a research station near the Mutara Nebula. Communication was lost with the Regula yesterday, at 2200 Standard.”

“On my way.”

A few minutes later, he walked onto the bridge. Duke was in the Captain’s chair, and Steve motioned for him to stay seated. “What do we know?”

“Not much. It’s a small facility--nine personnel. Mostly ag research.” Duke looked over at Third Science Officer Archie Johnson. “Archie’s requested more info from the nearest space station, but we haven’t heard back yet. We should be at Regula by 0700. I recommend we approach with shields up and at yellow alert--the Mutara Nebula lies between the Cardassian Union and the Klingon Empire.”

As Steve suspected, even though this was a priority one, there was no reason for him to take command. They wouldn’t arrive at Regula until first watch--and Duke had things well in hand.

“Do what you think is best--you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room if the situation changes.” He settled himself at his desk, opened his PADD. He signed and sent Matty’s acceptance letter, then began working through the never-ending list of things that needed his attention.

Steve had hated all the paper pushing--until Clay got sick. Then the mindless work became a useful distraction; a way to stay occupied.

Except, it wasn’t working tonight.

For some reason, his mind kept turning to Clay--probably because next week was the Enterprise’s two year anniversary. Which meant--he counted--it’d been seventeen months since Clay’s funeral.

Had it really been almost a year and half?

Even back when they were roommates at the Academy, Steve had depended on Clay’s easy calm. And then they were handed the Enterprise; found themselves trying to deal with both the demands of the shake down cruise, and a crew still finding their footing with each other. Clay had been the perfect Number One through it all, cool and unflappable.

The exact _opposite_ of Danny. 

Danny who was stubborn and opinionated and could talk anything--and everything--to death. Although, Steve had to admit sometimes Clay had been too relaxed when it came to the crew. Danny was just as demanding as Steve was, especially if--

Demanding.

The answer was there, staring him in the face.

He and Clay had been so busy those first few months, they hadn’t done much except eat and sleep. If Clay hadn’t gotten sick, Steve suspected they would’ve eventually fall into the same comfortable ‘friends with benefits’ relationship they’d had back in the Academy.

The kind of relationship Steve preferred. Simple, no-strings attached. Somehow, he’d thought Danny would understand, but clearly--

His comm flashed, and he glanced over, saw there was an encrypted message coming in. Steve thumbed on the terminal. “This is Captain McGarrett.”

“This is Commander Perim.” A tall, willowy Trill appeared on the screen. “You’re on your way to Regula?”

“Yes. We were told the station stopped communicating at 2200?”

“That’s correct. We’re sitting square between the Cardassians and the Klingons out here. As a precautionary measure, all research stations and communication arrays in the sector are required to send a message twice an hour.” Perim hesitated, “You should know, Captain, that Regula is small, but it’s important. The team there is working on the Genesis project.”

Steve didn’t like where this was going. “I thought the Genesis project was a theoretical model.”

“It’s much more than theoretical--they’ve created a small biosphere inside the asteroid. _If_ the biosphere remains stable, then we may have cracked terraforming. You can see why I am concerned. Unfortunately, I’m stretched too thin to be able to send anyone from this station. The Cardassians are not the best of neighbors--” Perim stopped, her eyes flicking to something outside the screen. She gave him a thin, mirthless smile, “Speaking of the Cardassians, I have to go. Sorry.”

The communication cut off abruptly. 

Steve glanced at the time. Damnit. They had just over two hours to come up with some kind of plan. He hit the comm, punched in the code for his and Danny’s quarters. “Sorry to wake you, but I need to see you in my ready room.”

Danny’s voice was sleep-rough, “On my way.”

Steve got to his feet, strode out to the bridge. “Archie? Could you contact Betancourt, and Science Officers Jenna Kaye and Jeff Morrison? I need to see all three in my ready room--and you, too.”

Archie nodded, “Aye, Captain.”

Steve turned back to Duke, “The commander of the local space station agrees with you--she thinks we could be greeted by either Klingons or Cardassians.”

“I’ll order a full scan as soon as we’re within range of our sensors.” Duke gave him a troubled look, “Let’s hope those nine scientists are still alive.”

“Yeah.” Steve said it automatically, but they both knew that the chances of that were slim, and getting slimmer by the minute.

~~+~~


	6. Center of Attention

~~+~~  
**Regula (Prompt: Eerie Lake)**

What they had was a mystery--and Danny _hated_ mysteries.

All three science officers knew about the Genesis project, but only as a theoretical model. What Commander Perim had meant by biosphere was anybody’s guess. They could find no proof of the biosphere on Regula, but that wasn’t surprising. If it was buried at the center, there was little chance of the ship’s sensors picking up anything through the asteroid’s rocky crust.

More concerning was what their sensors _were_ picking up, the scattered remains of what had been a Galor-class Cardassian ship--and what they _weren’t_ picking up, which was signs of life on the research station.

“Maybe we should go over the data on the debris again?” Jenna sighed in frustration, “I mean, Cardassian ships don’t just self-destruct.”

Danny half-listened, his mind still chasing the problem. They were overlooking something--wait. The communication array. “What if the station stopped communicating because they somehow found a way to use the array against the ship?”

“This is a really old research station.” Jeff shook his head. “The communication array has to be a museum piece. There’s no way it could be turned into a weapon.”

“The main difference between a communication array and a defense array is what they send out into space. And it sounds like the Genesis project is just a glorified subatomic explosion. The station would need to generate a lot of energy to kickstart something like that.” Danny reached for his cup of raktajino, “So why couldn’t they reroute that energy through the array?”

“It would certainly explain why we can’t match the floating Cardassian scrapyard to any known explosion pattern.” Archie glanced at Jenna, “Maybe we could run another scan, focus on the communication array?”

“Good idea.” Jenna jumped to her feet, “Come on, lets see what we can find.”

All three scientists left. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Betancourt turned to Danny. “You know what you’re saying, right?”

“Yeah, I do. The scientists couldn’t have fired the array until the Cardassians dropped their shields.” Danny answered her, quietly. “And the only reason the Cardassians would’ve dropped their shields was because they were beaming a landing party onto the station.”

“Sir?” Betancourt turned her gaze toward Steve, “Permission to speak freely?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, “Permission granted.”

She began ticking off points on her fingers. “I think First Officer Williams is right--we need to assume there is a Cardassian landing party either on the station, or in the biosphere. Which means the research team is most likely dead. We also need to assume that Regula is a lost cause, since even the local space station doesn’t have the resources to defend it.”

Betancourt held up two fingers, “I suggest we take two security details down to Regula. Task one security detail to help the Science Officers pack up whatever research they can, and destroy everything else. Send the second detail down to the biosphere, to find and neutralize any Cardassians.”

She was right. They had to assume there were Cardassians on Regula, and that the research station was now a liability. But sending a security detail into the biosphere could easily turn into a suicide mission, since they had no idea what was the hell was down there. 

Danny caught Steve’s eye, and Steve gave him a slight nod. Neither of them was going to ask their crew to do something they weren’t willing to do themselves.

“All right, put together two security details.” Steve straightened. “Kono, Chin, and the three science officers can clear out the research facility. Danny and I will lead the other security detail, and check out the biosphere.”

“Yes, sir.” Betancourt rose. “But I strongly advise against sending any commanding officers down to Regula.”

Steve held her gaze, “Duly noted.”

Betancourt strode out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Steve crossed his arms and looked at Danny.

Well, one of them needed to be mature about this--instead of storming out, and then spending the evening sulking somewhere else in the ship. 

Danny set his cup of raktajino down, “Steve, can we--”

“You were right.” Archie walked in, “We checked and that communication array is burnt toast.”

“At least they took care of most of the Cardassians for us.” Steve stood up, clearly happy to be handed an excuse--any excuse--to avoid discussing yesterday. “Now it's up to us to take care of the rest.”

Danny finished the last swig of raktajino. sighed, and hauled himself to his feet.

~~+~~

Steve steeled himself, and studied the bloody mess that had been the main research lab. Dr. Marcus, lead scientist, and the daughter of Fleet Admiral Marcus, had sacrificed herself, keeping the landing party occupied while the array was fired at their ship.

She’d armed herself with a rock-cutting saw, managing to kill one Cardassian and injure another, before she herself was killed. Steve was guessing the injured Cardassian’s slit throat was a coup de grace, given by his comrades.

“The tricorder is indicating two more bodies, sir.” Security Officer Jin pointed, “In the control room.” 

Danny started walking that way, and Steve fell in behind. Jin led them to a small room. According to the sign on the wall, it had held both communications, and the control room for the station’s life support. 

Now it was just a heap of blackened, twisted wreckage. Somewhere in that wreckage was the remains of two more scientists. This was rage--the Cardassians' exacting their revenge for the destruction of their ship

“Fuck.” Danny’s voice was a low growl, “I fucking hate disruptors.” 

Steve wondered if Dr. Marcus’ decision to sacrifice herself had been just to keep the Cardassian ship from stealing her research--or if she’d also been motivated to prove that she was different from her father.

“Captain?” 

Steve turned, and this time it was Junior in the doorway, with Security Officer Tani Rey beside him.

“We found out how they were accessing the biosphere.”

The Security Officers led them down another hall, and to a turbo lift. A moment later, the lift doors opened, revealing a small teleporter room, where Chin and two other Security Officers, Pol and Kessil, were waiting.

They used a system of teleporter relays.” Chin was flicking through several different terminal screens. “There's automated teleporter pads in the different caves, to solve the issue of beaming through rock.”

“Great.” Danny grumbled, “So instead of getting my atoms scrambled once, I get my atoms scrambled multiple times? Just what I always wanted.”

Chin raised his eyes, “The teleporter records show six scientists beamed down, and then, shortly afterwards, eight Cardassians.”

“All right, our main priority is rescuing the scientists.” Steve pulled out his weapon. “Set phasers on heavy stun.” 

He stepped onto the pad with Danny, Junior, and the other three Security Officers. They fanned out in a circle, phasers drawn, and Chin beamed them down.

~~+~~

The teleporter relay system didn’t feel any different. Steve felt the icy tingle of the beam, then materialized on another teleporter pad in the middle of a tropical glade.

Junior was already firing his phaser, taking out the Cardassian who had been standing guard near the pad. The rest of them crouched, scanning for more guards, but saw only jungle, and beyond the glade, a large lake.

Junior and Kessil dumped the Cardassian on the pad, contacted Chin to beam the prisoner up.

“Kind of pretty.” Pol was looking at the lake.

“No, it's kind of creepy.” Danny shot back. “There should not be a lake--especially a lake surrounded by a jungle--in the middle of an asteroid.”

Steve squinted up, saw far overhead the gray arch of rock and a network of almost impossibly bright balls of light,which were artificially creating daylight. He looked back at the lake, noticed it was eerily still.

In fact, the jungle was almost hauntingly quiet. No birds, no insects--

A piercing scream broke the silence.

~~+~~

The jungle was dense, and they had to fight their way through it, trying to get to the source of the scream. The thick wall of trees and vines eventually began to thin, and they crept cautiously toward another wide clearing.

Three Cardassians stood, guarding the scientists. One of the researcher, an Andorian, was moaning in agony, his arm wrenched completely out of the socket. Two more Cardassians were standing further off, talking in low, angry tones.

Junior pointed to those two, then motioned to Pol. Steve nodded, and Junior and Pol crept off through the undergrowth. Steve held up his hand, signaling everyone else to wait.

A minute later, twin beams from phasers shot out, and the two Cardassians crumpled. The distraction worked, drawing the guards away from their prisoners. Steve and the others fired, and all three dropped.

“There are still two more Cardassians out there.” Steve inched into the clearing. Junior and Pol were entering the clearing just as cautiously from the other direction. “Rey, Kessil, get the scientists back to the teleporter pad. The four of us will provide cover.”

Danny jerked his head towards the five unconscious Cardassians, thumbing the setting on his phaser down a notch. “Junior, Pol, lower your stun setting, double tap them.”

He was already firing his phaser at the nearest one. Junior and Pol exchanged a look, but obeyed orders. Steve knew Starfleet frowned on double tapping, but it was the right call. The Cardassians would be out cold for hours, and too sick and disorientated to be much of a threat afterwards.

“Oh, look.” Danny bent over the guy he’d just stunned, picked up a machete. He passed it over to Steve. “A sharp, pointy thing--it must be your birthday. Do me and Kermit a favor, and try not to run with it.”

It was the typical shit Danny was always saying, and yet, Steve was suddenly aware that Danny was being very careful to keep a lot of space between them.

“Thanks.” Steve took the machete, and it dawned on him that Danny had been avoiding being near him all morning. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rey and Kessil had the scientists on their feet, and were heading his way. Steve scanned the clearing one more time, then began chopping a path back to the teleporter pad through the dense undergrowth.

~~+~~

Getting back to the teleporter pad was agonizingly slow. Three of the scientists were hurt, one was elderly, and another was blind. And the sixth scientist was a young Alpha Centaurian who was going to be murdered by somebody--although it was hard to tell if it would be Steve’s crew, or his own colleagues. He paused, again, to whine about something--while the other researchers tried, again, to get him to be quiet.

Steve swore inwardly. They needed the kid to shut up. He could see the lake now, so the pad had to be close by. Which meant, if the last two Cardassians were smart, they would be waiting somewhere up ahead.

Beside him, Pol stopped. He tilted his head slightly--

“Get down!” Danny barreled into Steve, at the same time there was the ozone-charged roar of disruptor fire. They hit the ground hard, while a second disruptor roared, along with the higher zap of firing phasers--

Danny was a heavy, unmoving weight on top of him. 

Steve’s heart stopped.

“Danny? Danny?!” He scrabbled for purchase, rolled them both over. Danny had a nasty gash across his face, but when Steve ran his hands over him, he couldn’t find anything else wrong. "Danny?! Damnit--"

“Fuck.” Danny blinked awake under him. “Fuckin’ tree branch.”

Steve's shoulders sagged in relief. He raised his eyes, did a quick check. There were two unconscious Cardassians, and Junior and Pol were already double tapping them. Kessil and Rey were reassuring the scientists, and the Alpha Centaurian was _still_ whining.

He looked back down at Danny, and their eyes locked.

“No.” Danny shook his head.

And that's when it hit Steve--he'd been blind these past few months. He'd been so wrapped up with missing Clay that he'd also missed the truth. Clay may have been his best friend, but Danny and him, they just _fit_.

“Danny--”

“No.” Danny said it again, as he swiped at the blood oozing from the long gash, leaving a red smear across his cheek. “You didn't want to talk yesterday, so we are most definitely _not_ talking now. Capice?"

"You do realize that nobody has used that word for a couple of hundred years now." Steve reached down and hauled Danny to his feet. "And you're right. I'm--"

"An idiot?" Danny was trying not to smile at him. 

"Among other things, yes." And the confession was worth it, because Danny rocked back on his heels, and then clapped a hand, warm and reassuring, on Steve's shoulder. 

~~+~~~


	7. Epilogue

~~+~~  
**USS Enterprise (Epilogue)**

“Thank you, sir.” Steve ended the communication. They had new orders; the Enterprise was to rendezvous with the USS Discovery at Capella, where they would hand over the researchers, the Cardassian prisoners, and the Genesis Project. 

More importantly, Command had been grudgingly impressed, and Steve had been able to wrangle a full week of R&R at Capella before they headed toward the Alpha quadrant. He picked up his PADD, glanced over when the doors to his ready room opened.

Grace walked in, carrying Tigger. She was wearing a yellow sundress, decorated with large white flowers, and bright orange Capellan sandals. “It is second watch. You are working.”

He put the PADD back down, “And you’re supposed to be with Chellea.’

“As I am here with you, it is not possible for me to be with Chellea.” Grace replied.

Steve eyed her for a second, then punched the comm. “Betancourt? Could you find Chellea, and let her know Grace is with me?” 

“Yes, Captain.” He could hear the amusement in Betancourt's voice.

Steve started to reach for the PADD, but one of Grace’s eyebrows quirked up.

He stopped. “What?”

Dah’noh is in Sickbay, and you are working, but it is not your shift.”

“I just have a few things that I need to take care of.” He resolutely picked up the PADD, and opened the prisoner transfer forms.

Her eyebrow arched a little higher. “You did not have dinner with Dah’noh last night.” 

Steve was tempted to lie--then he remembered Grace was a telepath. And did he really want to raise Grace the way his parents had raised him? Being open and honest had never been much of a priority for either his mom or his dad.

He laid the PADD back down. Again. "You’re right, I didn’t. Can I tell you a secret?”

Grace gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I was wrong. Dah’noh wanted to talk about something. I didn’t want to talk, so I left. Sometimes, even adults make mistakes. Now, if you’ll let me finish these forms, we can go check on Dah’noh together.”

Grace considered this. "Dah’noh _always_ wants to talk.”

“Yeah.” It was Steve’s turn to nod, “Yeah, he does. But--that’s not a bad thing.”

Which was his best stab at trying to say something that was pretty much the _opposite_ of what his dad would’ve said. 

He checked the information on the forms, signed each one, and sent the entire batch back to the captain of the USS Discovery. He dropped the PADD in the charging drawer, “Come on, let’s go down to sickbay.” 

Grace followed him to the turbolift, still carrying Tigger. A moment later, they arrived in sickbay. An intern pointed to a nearby room. “Nurse Mlnn said to just send you in.”

She looked up as they walked in. “Good timing--we’re all finished.” She put the dermal regenerator away, patted Danny’s shoulder. “Could you try to stay out of sickbay for at least a week?”

“Blame him.” Danny jerked his head at Steve as he got off the table, “He’s the one who had the machete--he was supposed to protect me from people-mauling trees.”

Grace tilted her head, “Dah’noh, trees cannot maul.”

“Says you.” Danny teased, “But you haven’t been mauled by a tree--and I have.”

“Twice.” Steve added, trying--and failing--to keep a straight face. “Dan’noh got mauled by a jamalkayanillia tree, too.”

A look of baffled exasperation crossed Grace’s face for a moment, while Nurse Mlnn chirped, and waved her hands. “Go. Get out of here, all of you. Shoo.”

~~+~~  
**Jupiter Colony**

The soft, persistent beep of the alarm woke him up. Danny grunted, started to stretch--and then winced, because he was _sore._ He and Steve had taken an extra two days off--and they’d _definitely_ been enjoying having more free time.

“Morning--dad.” Steve’s hand landed on the small of his back.

_Dad._

As of 0900 yesterday, he was a _father._

Danny turned his head, “It’s the middle of the night. Why the hell did I agree to this?”

Steve’s thumb stroked across his skin, “Because you’re already a pushover, who can’t say no?”

“Says the guy who let her have that second piece of pie last night.” Danny rolled over, and relunctantly hauled himself out of bed. He smacked Steve’s ass. “Come on, babe, time to get up.”

Twenty minutes later, dressed and fortified with a cup of raktajino, Danny followed Steve and Grace to the observation deck. There was a handful of other crew members already there, waiting.

Grace watched the wide bank of windows intently for a couple of minutes. She stiffened, glanced up at him, “Dan’noh? Is that it?”

“Yup.” He leaned over, pointing. Jupiter was so far out, that the sun was a lot smaller, but still a blaze of light against the black of space. “That’s Sol, and it’s your sun now.”

He straightened, and Steve slipped an arm around him as they watched the sunrise--together.

~~Finis~~


End file.
